


One Green Thumb Deserves Another

by dulcetine, TheFlailing



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Gardener Bucky, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, nymph Steve, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14728565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dulcetine/pseuds/dulcetine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlailing/pseuds/TheFlailing
Summary: Bucky thought that being a Central Park zone gardener would be simple - keeping his head down and performing manual labour were, in his opinion, two of his strengths. But a chance encounter with a mysterious and magical figure forces Bucky to open not only his eyes, but maybe even his heart.-8-“How did you do that?!? Who- what are you?”The boy turned to look at Bucky, his brilliant green eyes softly glowing. “It’s like you’ve never met a wood nymph before,” he snorted.“A… a what?”“You’ve never heard of wood nymphs?” The boy rolled his eyes. “You humans are so ignorant.”





	One Green Thumb Deserves Another

**Author's Note:**

> \---  
> Author's note  
> It has been a pleasure and a joy to collaborate with the lovely Dulcetine on this year's Captain America Reverse Big Bang! Although I've written for a couple Big Bangs before, this is my first Reverse BB, and it's been an absolute delight!
> 
> I must thank Dulcetine, my wonderful artist, for inspiring me with her lovely art, for allowing me to run with wild with my AU ideas, for her positivity and encouragement, and for her patience with my slow writing process. I really enjoyed our collaboration, and your enthusiasm was totally infectious! Thank you for making such awesome art and for making this RBB such a good experience!
> 
> A huge thank you to the mods over at [CapReverseBB](https://capreversebb.tumblr.com/), who put on a great event! The organization was impeccable, and so much wonderful things have come out of this year's event so far! I can't wait to see what else people have made =) I'm so grateful that the Cap fandom is such a great community with so many wonderful people who are willing to volunteer their time to organize, make art, and write for amazing events like this one.
> 
> I've been on a bit of a fantasy!AU vibe recently, so when I saw Dulcetine's art, this magic-in-NYC idea sprang to mind and I wasnt't able to shake it off, haha. I haven't had this much fun writing a fic in a while, and I'm so happy to share our collaboration, I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> -theFlailing
> 
> \---  
> Artist's Notes  
> Thank you to the mods of the CapRBB for all the effort you put into running this event! And thank you to theFlailing for your hard work and wonderful story!
> 
> -Dulcetine

It was chilly in the old garden shed. Small dust motes floated lazily in the soft rays of the late afternoon sun that streamed through the open door. Smelling of loamy earth and damp wood, the cool air misted with every one of Bucky’s exhales. Tucking his clipboard under his arm, Bucky rubbed his hands together; the thin mittens he wore weren’t quite enough to keep out the bite of the late winter air.

In front of him were shelves upon shelves of wooden boxes and crates filled with all kinds of bulbs and seed stores. Looking down at his clipboard, Bucky returned to the task of taking inventory. Chewing on the end of his pen, Bucky was doing a rough count of the daffodil bulbs when the sounds of approaching footsteps caught his attention.

There was a rap of knuckles against wood, and Bucky turned. Standing in the entrance to the shed was a man dressed in a uniform not that unlike the one Bucky was wearing – dark green polo shirt, beige canvas pants, and a heavier brown coat with the Central Park Conservancy logo stitched into the top left.

“Mr. Philips!” Bucky said, pushing the box of daffodil bulbs back onto the shelf.

“Barnes,” said Philips; his gruff voice and steely demeanor made Bucky straighten up. Having only just landed this job two months ago, Bucky was still trying to be on his best behavior – he needed this job and it paid quite well for someone with his qualifications (or lack thereof). As his boss, Mr. Philips had been supervising his training, and although Bucky had made it past the probation period for new hires, he was still nervous in the old manager’s presence. “There’s been a change in plans. We’re moving back the planting schedule.”

“What? Why?” Bucky asked, internally panicking. Had he done something wrong? Was he about to be fired?

Philips snorted, and Bucky was reminded why everyone on the gardening staff called him ‘The Colonel’ behind his back. “Have you checked the weather report lately?”

Bucky shook his head.

“There’s a storm incoming,” Philips said with a displeased growl. “They say it’s supposed to hit New York this evening and last at least through the night; there’s a chance it’ll continue through tomorrow as well. They’re predicting high winds and heavy rainfall.”

Bucky almost audibly sighed with relief; looks like he wasn’t getting fired after all.

“There’s always at least one howler before spring sets in,” Philips said, scowling. “Given the strength of tonight’s storm, we’re expecting at moderate damage in some areas of the park, so we’re pulling all zone gardeners and groundskeepers off regular duties to deal with cleanup.”

“Yes sir.”

“Keep your eyes peeled. We’ll let you know if the conditions are too dangerous to start work at the regular time; your shift might be pushed back a couple hours depending on the severity tomorrow morning. I’m assigning you to team working around the lake.”

As Mr. Philips outlined the duties and procedures surrounding a post-storm cleanup at Central Park, Bucky flipped to a spare page on his clipboard to take notes. By the time he finished explaining how to block off paths and cordon off restricted areas where maintenance would be required, Bucky was almost at the end of his shift. With the foreseeable future dedicated to damage control and restoration, it looked like this inventory check would have to wait.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Mr. Philips said, just as he was about to leave.

“Sir?”

“There probably won’t be many people around tomorrow, since it’s supposed to rain for the rest of the week. But, if you see that damned crazy fairy boy, you tell him to stop messing with my park!”

“E-Excuse me?” Now, Mr. Philips may have mastered the ability to strike fear into the boldest of men with a single look, and he may have the burliest exterior of anyone that Bucky had ever met, but since being hired back in November, Bucky had never gotten the impression that his boss might be particularly cruel or bigoted.

Mr. Philips huffed. “I swear to god, every time that little brat messes with the landscaping, I get into trouble with the arborist department or the department of planning, and I’m tired of getting chewed out for something I never authorized in the first place!”

At a loss for words, Bucky didn’t know how to respond.

“You got that, Barnes?” snapped his boss.

“Y-Yes sir,” Bucky replied.

“Good. Now go home and get a good night’s rest. God knows you’ll need it tomorrow,” grumbled Mr. Philips as he stalked out of the shed.

As much as he hated waking up early for his job, Bucky was grateful that his shift ended in the early afternoon, so after packing up his things, Bucky grabbed his bag and headed out. Dark grey clouds had formed over Manhattan, and as he walked to the nearest subway station, Bucky’s mind wandered to the weather report and the impending storm.

Sitting on the crowded A-Train, Bucky clutched his bag to his chest. The combination of having to wake up early and the physical labour meant that Bucky was almost always exhausted, but in a way, it was a good distraction. _It could be worse_ , Bucky thought to himself as the train car rocked gently back and forth, _you could still be in the middle of that hellhole of a desert_.

Stepping into his tiny, studio apartment, Bucky dropped his keys into the chipped ceramic bowl by the door. Toeing off his boots and dropping his bag on the floor, Bucky stretched. The tiny apartment wasn’t much and barely had enough room for a mattress, couch, coffee table, and tiny kitchenette, but it was all he could currently afford. Sure, he Bucky might have been able to get a real apartment with, like, actual rooms and stuff, but that would have required moving out of Brooklyn. Bucky had grown up on these streets, and Bucky knew that it would always be home for him.

Brushing his long, dark hair out of his face, Bucky stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. By the time he emerged wearing soft flannel pants and an old tank top, it had already started raining, and Bucky could hear the wind rattling his window.

“Well,” Bucky said to himself as he turned to the kitchen, “looks like tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day.”

It was still cold, so Bucky moved to his dresser to look for one of his sweaters. Ever since he’d joined the horticulture staff at the Central Park Conservatory, he’d developed a taste for what his sister liked to call ‘distastefully obnoxious’ floral pattern sweaters and had been collecting them over the last five months. After a few moments, he found one decorated with giant water-colour-like tulips printed across the fabric.

“Perfect,” Bucky said, slipping on the sweater and shuffling into the kitchen in search of food.

-8-

Bucky was wet. Everywhere.

It had still been raining when Bucky had joined his assigned group of zone gardeners that morning, and it continued to pour all morning as they worked their way through their section. The heavy jacket he wore had only succeeded in keeping out the water for the first twenty minutes. Now, well past lunch, Bucky was soaking wet, from his shirt collar down to his underwear and socks, and Bucky felt disgusting and cold.

With a roll of yellow ‘DO NOT CROSS’ tape under his arm, Bucky trudged through the puddles and mud. The staff group had split up a while back to comb through the myriad of trails that ran through the forest, looking for damaged trees and hazardous areas. The thick cloud cover cast a grey light over the city. Without the regular hustle and bustle of the park guests, the patter of raindrops on the leaves and the rustle of branches swaying in the wind were the only sounds. Cold and alone, Bucky felt isolated amongst the trees the lined the path.

As Bucky rounded a bend in the trail, he came face to face with a tree branch. Blinking, Bucky’s eyes followed the dangerously low hanging curve of branches, tracing all the way to a tree not too far from the edge of the walkway.

This wasn’t the first damaged tree Bucky had seen today, but it was by far the worst one. He didn’t know exactly how it was possible, but somehow the howling overnight winds had caused this tree to split down the middle of its trunk, so that half of the tree was standing up, like normal, and the other half was splintered, bent, and hanging directly across the path.

“Well, that’s not good,” Bucky said, frowning as he approached the base of the trunk. He was no expert, but it didn’t look like this tree could be saved. From the way that half of the tree was bent over, the arborists would probably order the whole thing to be cut down.

Grabbing the roll of yellow caution tape, Bucky jogged back the way he came until he came to the place where this path branched off from the main route and spent several minutes looping it back and forth across the entrance. Satisfied with the closure, Bucky tied off the ends to a nearby lamp post and made his way back to the site of the damaged tree. He’d take some pictures for the report, log the location on the map he was carrying, and then move on.

But when Bucky rounded the bend this time, he wasn’t alone. Standing in the middle of the path was a boy.

Bucky blinked in surprise.

The boy was a whole head shorter than Bucky and had a very slender figure. Unlike Bucky, who was dressed in full rain gear and still somehow sopping wet, this boy wore only what appeared to be some kind of… tunic? Toga? Bucky didn’t know what to call it, but it looked like the guy had wrapped a beige bedsheet around his almost skeletally thin frame and called it a day; the fabric was pinned at the shoulders by golden clasps, and it hung down over his boney arms and chest and ended just above the knees. The ridiculously weather-inappropriate garment exposed a rather obscene amount of the boy’s skinny arms and legs, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice how incredibly pale his skin was, like the soft glow of the light of a full moon.

With one arm outstretched, the boy was touching the splintered trunk of the damaged tree, his long willowy fingers caressing the flaking tree bark.

Snapping himself out of his daze, Bucky stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, please step away from the tree.”

The boy, who had been facing away from Bucky, turned at the sound of his voice, and Bucky was met with the piercing gaze of bright, almost glowing green eyes. Those lush green eyes were framed by incredibly long, dark eyelashes and a strong brow. The fine features of the boy’s slender face seemed both delicate yet strong, as though his high cheekbones and jaw were cut from tempered glass. As he moved, the rain droplets caught in his pale golden hair moved and shimmered in an almost ethereal fashion.

A beat passed between them, during which Bucky couldn’t breath, frozen by possibly the most beautiful person he’d ever come across in his entire miserable life. And then the moment passed, and the boy turned back to the tree.

“Hey – you should be here; it’s dangerous,” Bucky said, walking over to where the trespasser was standing. “Step back before you get hurt; I’m ain’t gonna be responsible for a lawsuit against the park.”

The boy continued to ignore Bucky, and instead seemed absorbed in whatever he was doing with the tree.

“Sir, I’m not gonna say this again; you need to leave.” Bucky had half a mind to pick him up and drag him away from the damaged tree – the boy looked like he couldn’t have weight more than a sack of flour; certainly, he couldn’t have weight more than the standard equipment Bucky had heaved halfway across Iraq and back.

But the boy didn’t even seem to notice. He simply walked in a slow circle around the splintered tree.

“Look, kid, I’m _this_ close to calling park security on your skinny ass, so just step away from the tree.”

The boy put his hands on the broken part of the tree trunk, bracing himself against it.

“Hold up – what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Bucky cried, darting forwards.

That’s when the boy pushed.

And to Bucky’s complete and utter shock, the tree trunk _moved_.

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

The boy gave another push, and the half of the tree that was hanging down started moving. It was… impossible! This tree was probably more than a hundred years old, a massive, towering giant whose trunk was wider than a grown man’s arm span; there was no way in hell it was possible for any one person to do that!

To Bucky’s amazement, the boy continued to push the bent half of the trunk until the gap between the two halves at the very base of the split were coming close together. How was that physically possible to do – all without breaking a sweat!?! Once the two halves were once again touching at the base, the boy removed one of his hands from the tree and placed it on the seam between the broken halves of the trunk.

A strange, tingling sensation fluttered across Bucky’s skin as he watched the boy’s hand faintly glow – like, actually emitted pale green light – and the wood began to stitch itself back together. Starting at the bottom, right where the crack ended, the splinted wood and bark seemed to melt and fuse together, sewing the two halves into one whole like a zipper. In a matter of minutes, what was once an unsalvageable wreck had been completely healed.

“What… how did you do that?” Bucky sputtered.

The boy shrugged as he peered up the tree trunk. “It’s my job,” he said. Bucky found his voice surprising rich and deep, for someone with such a small body.

“How did you do that?!? Who- what are you?”

The boy turned to look at Bucky, his brilliant green eyes softly glowing. “It’s like you’ve never met a wood nymph before,” he snorted.

“A… a what?”

“You’ve never heard of wood nymphs?” The boy rolled his eyes. “You humans are so ignorant.” Patting the trunk of the newly whole tree, the boy – or nymph? – turned and took a step into the underbrush.

“W-Wait! Where are you going?”

“To fix my forest,” said the boy as he walked away.

“No, wait!” Bucky said, reaching out to grasp the boy by the elbow. His smooth, pale skin was wet from the rain and cool to the touch.

Stopping in his tracks, the nymph glared first at Bucky’s hand and then back up at Bucky’s face. “Don’t touch me!” he said, shaking himself out of Bucky’s grip.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, letting his hand drop. “I just... I don’t understand. Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? I’m the guardian of this forest! I should be asking you who you are and what you’re doing in my forest,” he said, placing his hands on his hips.

“M-Me?”

The nymph raised one golden eyebrow.

“I’m… Bucky? I’m a zone gardener here.”

“Zone gardener? What’s that supposed to be?”

“It’s kind of like a groundskeeper? My job mostly involves maintaining the plantings, garden areas, and landscaped parts of the park, like the flower beds and stuff? I haven’t been around very long, so Mr. Philips hasn’t gone over everything quite yet, but-”

“Oh, you’re one of Philips’ boys.”

Bucky blinked. “You know Mr. Philips?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, the old man likes to blame me for getting him in trouble.”

Getting him in trouble…? And that’s when Mr. Philips’ strange remarks from the previous day popped into Bucky’s head, and it suddenly clicked. ‘Crazy fairy boy’ hadn’t been some sort of homophobic label; Mr. Philips had been referring to an _actual_ faerie – technically, a wood nymph, but that could arguably mean the same thing.

“So, does that mean you’ll be messing up my forest too?” the nymph said in a challenging tone.

“Um… no? I don’t think so?”

The nymph nodded. “Good, you better not. You mess with my forest, and you’ll have to answer to me,” he said firmly.

“I… okay?” Bucky said, still confused and frankly not quite sure that the entire encounter wasn’t some sort of hallucination.

“Are you done? I have more important things to do than stand around uselessly with a human like you.”

“Like what kind of things?”

“Like going back to fix my forest. That tree wasn’t the only thing that was broken by the storm.”

“Oh.” As Bucky stared into the nymph’s clear, green eyes, he felt mesmerized. As bizarre as this whole meeting had been, Bucky suddenly discovered that he didn’t want it to end, not just yet. “Do you need help?” Bucky somehow found himself asking.

“Does it look like I need help?” the nymph snapped.

“N-No! I just… I would help, if you need it? My job today is basically to clean up the debris and mark off hazardous areas and stuff. Here, see?” Bucky said, taking out his (very soggy) map. “I’ve already got a bunch of them labelled on my map.”

“Hm,” said the nymph as he peered down at the map. “I guess I could get these parts first, since they’re right where the humans like to go. Alright, this one’s closest,” he said, pointing to a blocked pathway that Bucky had roped off about an hour earlier. “Let’s go.”

The nymph took the lead, guiding Bucky straight through the undergrowth. As they cut through the bushes, Bucky couldn’t quite believe how the foliage of the forest seemed to bend out of the nymph’s way. If it had been any other person, the ridiculously skimpy robe-slash-toga thing that he was wearing would have snagged and caught on all manner of branches and leaves. But apparently, nymphs were somehow immune to such wardrobe malfunctions. As if to further hit home that this boy was no mere mortal, Bucky noticed that a small burst of bright green grass would spring to life in the wake of every step the slender nymph took.

For the rest of the afternoon, Bucky followed the nymph around the park, going from one section to another as the nymph ‘healed’ the forest. Bucky used his map to indicate which parts of the park were most frequented by guests, and thus were priority sections. Part of the nymph powers, apparently, was the ability to sense the health of all the plants in the park; once the human-visited areas had been cleaned up, the nymph would be going back to attend to the areas that were inaccessible to the regular guests.

While none of the damaged areas were quite as bad as the first one, Bucky was still in awe every time the nymph’s hands glowed green and the vegetation seemed to just… magically become undamaged (which, Bucky supposed, was exactly what was happening).

“So… if you’re the guardian of this forest… do you have a name?” Bucky asked as they were approaching the last damaged area around the lake.

The nymph scoffed. “Of course I do.”

Bucky waited for the nymph to continue, but after a moment, it was clear that he wasn’t going to say anything more. “You’re not going to tell me what it is?”

“Why should I? It’s not like you care. And besides, you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

“How would you know?” Bucky said, feeling the competitive part of his nature rising up.

“Because it would be impossible for a human like you to say it.”

Bucky shrugged. “Well this morning I didn’t even think it was possible for nymphs to exist, and now they do. Try me.”

“Suit yourself,” the nymph said with another roll of his eyes. “My name is…”

At first, Bucky thought the nymph must be whispering, since his lips continues to move, but no detectible sound came forth. But after a moment, Bucky realized that what he’d thought were just the noise of the forest around him were actually sounds that were coming from the nymph’s mouth! The first part of the name Bucky heard was a gentle, drawn out rustling _ssssssssshhh_ of leaves fluttering through a gentle breeze. That was followed by the sharp, high _ktttt_ crackle of a branch snapping in half, and then a light _reeeeeeeeee_ that sounded of bending wood. Finally, the last part of the name was a soft _vvvup_ like sound of water licking the side of a pond.

“Did you catch that?” the nymph said with a smug smile.

“I… think so? But okay, you’re right, I definitely can’t make those sounds.”

“Told you.”

“So… what do I call you then?”

The nymph looked at Bucky with a wrinkle upon his brow.

“I gotta call you _something_ , and I’m not able to say your real name, so how about a nickname? A human one. Wait, say your name again?”

The nymph was frowning, but after a moment, complied and repeated his name.

“Hm… _ssssssh-ckt-reeeeeeeee-vvvup_ … What about… Steve? How’s that sound?”

An odd expression crossed the nymph’s face. “Steve,” he said, testing out the sound and feel of the word on his tongue. “Steve. Huh.”

“Is that okay?”

The nymph shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Well, Steve it is!” Bucky said, grinning.

It was getting to be late in the afternoon, and the rain finally petered out into a light drizzle. They reached the last site marked on Bucky’s map, and found a damaged row of hedges. Under the darkening sky, Bucky looked at his watch to find that his shift had ended almost an hour ago.

Steve crouched by the root of the nearest hedge, whispering words of encouragement to the shrubs as his hands glowed. Bent and broken wood straightened, and new bark grew back to replaced old, stripped away pieces. In a matter of minutes, the poor battered hedges looked as good as new.

“That’s the last one, right?” Steve said as he stood.

“Yeah, it’s the last one in the area.”

“Good. Now I can give my attention to the other parts of the forest. There’s some trees that need my care deeper in.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.”

Unsure of how to say goodbye, Bucky was trying to think of a proper farewell when Steve stepped into the shade of a nearby tree and simply vanished; where his solid body once stood, only a small puff of wind and three or four leaves floated gently to the ground.

Bucky blinked. “Uh… I guess that was goodbye?”

-8-

The next day, Bucky walked into work wondering if he would run into Steve again. Although the sky was still overcast, it wasn’t raining. Most of the major hazardous areas had been addressed by the vast network of park staff (and by Steve, no doubt) the day before, so Bucky and much of the maintenance crew had been relegated to minor cleanup duties.

Bucky spent his shift sweeping up plant debris, taking down caution tape, and repairing fences. When it was over, Bucky was surprised to find himself disappointed that Steve hadn’t made an appearance. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Bucky pointed his feet towards the nearest subway station.

-8-

Days went by, and then weeks. With the passing of March, New York seemed to finally shake the last spell of cold weather, and both the temperature and the sun rose to the occasion. Spring, Bucky was quickly learning, was a busy time for zone gardeners. The whole staff was occupied with planting and plant upkeep – annuals needed to be planted into the hundreds of flowerbeds that were scattered throughout the park, perennials needed to be monitored for their health, everything needed to be fertilized, the soil needed aeration, and lawns needed to be trimmed and patches of grass re-seeded for the first time since the fall.

Bucky found himself immersed in the day-to-day upkeep of the plant life in the park, and perhaps for the first time in his life, he was getting the chance to truly appreciate the wonders of spring. To watch the deciduous trees slowly bud, day by day getting more and more green until their branches were full of bright, luscious leaves – it was an almost magical experience. Losing himself in his work, Bucky found himself content with the routine of simple life he’d found.

At first, Bucky thought often of his strange encounter with the nymph of Central Park, but as the weeks turned into months, Bucky became less and less sure that the whole thing hadn’t been some figment of his imagination – a wild illusion borne from the cold and his PTSD.

-8-

Putting down the crate of pansies, Bucky wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. He’d been planting flowerbeds all day, and this was looking like it would be the last one he’d get to before his shift ended. It wasn’t a particularly large one, thankfully, so it wouldn’t take long, and it wouldn’t require the help of any of the other gardeners.

Though the early April sun was shining bright, the air was still chilly enough to cool the sweat Bucky had worked up all day. Retrieving his tools, Bucky set about his first task, which was also the most laborious: breaking up the soil that had been compacting over the winter.

“Are you planting pansies? _Here_?!”

Bucky, who had just been about to break the surface with his soil cultivator, looked up from the sudden exclamation to find a familiar shock of golden hair and flowy robe-slash-toga thing that matched the deep, resonant voice that had caught him by surprise. “Yes?” Bucky said, blinking several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

“You can’t plant those here,” the short nymph huffed as he stomped over to where Bucky was standing.

“What? Why?”

“Pansies are fragile!”

Now, Bucky may have only been a gardener for four months, but he was, if anything, thorough, and a quick learner besides. He had spent the last four months learning everything he could about gardening on the job from his colleagues and bosses. “Yes… but we’ve fertilized and checked the soil acidity and the temperature is finally right, so they should be fine.”

Steve waived his hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter; you can tinker with the soil all you want, but those pansies still won’t survive in this flower bed. Last year, marigolds were planted here!”

“So…? Why does that mean we shouldn’t plant these pansies?”

“Why are humans so stupid?!” Steve said, throwing his hands up in the air with exasperation.

“Okay, hold up, explain please. What do last year’s marigolds have anything to do with this year’s pansies?”

“Because,” Steve said, the irritation clearly evident in his expressive, tenor voice, “marigolds may be associated with the sun and give off a positive energy, but they are also jealous, cruel flowers. When a marigold plant is ripped from the earth before it’s well and truly dead, it leaves behind a small curse that taints the soil, so that only more marigolds can flourish in that spot. If you want to plant something else, you have to plant either a sturdy, hearty flower than can withstand the marigold’s curse, like sunflowers or daffodils, or you have to plant a pure flower that will cleanse the earth, like paperwhites. Pansies are way too sensitive and delicate; I guarantee you that these will be dead within two days if you put them here.”

Bucky looked down at the crate of pansies. They were colourful, which was why they’d been selected for this particular flowerbed. “Well, what other fl-” he began to ask, when his phone started ringing. Digging it out of his pocket, the screen flashed Mr. Philips’ contact. “Hello?”

“Barnes! Are you done with the planting in your section yet?” Mr. Philips barked.

“Not yet, sir, I’ve still go-”

“We got another shipment of tulips that need to be processed! Come down to storage ASAP.”

Bucky sighed. “Yes sir.” Hanging up on the call, Bucky looked up to discover that he was, in fact, alone again.

-8-

Going from their previous encounter, Bucky wasn’t exactly expecting to see Steve anytime soon after the whole incident with the flowerbed. Both of his encounters with the nymph so far had occurred when something was wrong, so he felt surprise and trepidation when, only a handful of days later, Bucky was kneeling in the middle of field pulling weeds when a pair of pale, very bare legs entered his peripheral vision.

“Steve,” Bucky said, sitting back on his heels.

In the early morning sun, Steve’s hair seemed to glow like a halo, and his marshmallow pale skin looked feather and soft (Bucky wondered if it would feel cool to the touch, like last time). The nymph had fixed his bright green eyes upon Bucky with a look of determination on his face.

“Daffodils,” Steve declared.

“What?” Bucky asked in confusion.

“You planted daffodils. Instead of the pansies.”

“Oh yeah, that! Well you said daffodils would be able to grow there, so I switched them out and put the pansies in with some of the potted planters elsewhere. Mr. Philips wasn’t very happy, but I made it work so I don’t think he’s too mad. Why?” A sudden thought occurred to him. “Unless that was a mistake? Should I have planted something else instead?” Bucky looked down to the pile of weeds at his side. “Are we not supposed to pull up weeds here?”

Steve blinked. “What? No. No, the daffodils are fine, and I don’t care about the weeds.” Several expressions crossed the features of the nymph’s strangely delicate yet strong face, too quickly for Bucky to decipher, before settling back to determination.

“Okay? So everything is okay?” Bucky asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

An awkward pause passed between them, and Bucky didn’t know what to do, or say. He wasn’t entirely sure why Steve was here, but as the pause stretched into a minute, it didn’t seem like Steve was going to vanish like he had before.

“So you’re weeding?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky groaned. “I hate it. My back hurts.”

“Hmm.”

“I don’t suppose you could do anything about that?” Bucky said, trying to make a casual joke.

Steve shrugged. “I could try to pull out the weeds, but it would be hard to distinguish the individual weeds from the grass; I’d probably end up pulling out everything in the process.”

Bucky pictured all of the greenery in the field being uprooted and flying into the air, and it was a comical yet frightening scene. “Yeah okay, maybe don’t do that. We kind of like the grass.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up into a tiny smile. “I kind of figured that; you humans spend too much time fiddling with it,” he said as he unceremoniously plopped down onto the lawn next to Bucky. “It’s stupid,” Steve said as he ran his hand through the short blades of grass.

“Other humans might like grass, but me? I’m not such a huge fan,” Bucky said, bending back down to continue weeding.

“Oh yeah?” Steve said. “Why’s that?”

“First of all, grass pollen is fucking annoying. I used to have really bad allergic reactions to grass pollen. Secondly, weeding,” Bucky said, pointedly gesturing to his current situation. “Third, cutting the grass. Why we spend so much money and energy to keep perfectly manicured lawns is beyond me.”

Bucky didn’t think his rant was particularly funny, but Steve must have found something amusing in it, because he laughed. The sound that burst from Steve’s thin, pale rose lips was deep and rich and musical, and it stirred something in Bucky in the same way that touching Steve’s cold, smooth skin or looking into his vivid green eyes did.

“I’ve seen you humans cutting it! Why do you spend so much time growing grass if you’re just going to cut it every couple of days? What’s the point? I don’t understand!” Steve said, still grinning

“I don’t understand either!” Bucky said, and both of them broke out laughing.

Steve ended up sticking around for the rest of day as Bucky worked his way across the field, carefully removing all the weeds he could find. After discovering their shared dislike for grass, conversation seemed to peter out, and they spent most of their time in silence. At first, Bucky found the silence awkward and uncomfortable, but Steve didn’t seem to mind it. The nymph seemed perfectly content to lie or sit or lounge on the ground next to Bucky as he worked away.

When he reached the other side of the field, Bucky stood and stretched.

“Ow,” Bucky groaned as he cracked his back and stretched. When he looked down, Bucky found Steve still sitting on the grass, peering up at him with curiosity. “My shift’s up for today,” Bucky said.

“Oh.”

As Bucky gathered his weeding tools and the bag of dug up weeds, he wondered what Steve got up to on a normal day. Did being the guardian of the Central Park forest require lots of day-to-day work? Bucky had rather enjoyed Steve’s quiet company this afternoon.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hm?”

“I’m supposed to be planting saplings tomorrow, and I’ve never really done it before. I could use your help, if you’re free?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth turned up into a small smile. “Sure.”

Bucky smiled brightly in return, his heart fluttering ever so slightly. “Great! I can meet you by Turtle Pond?”

“Sounds good,” Steve said as he stood, brushing a few stray blades of grass from his legs.

“Okay.”

“See you tomorrow,” Steve said, before vanishing into another puff of wind and leaves.

-8-

The next day, after clocking into work, Bucky made his way to Turtle Pond. It was a sunny morning, and as Bucky reached a viewpoint overlooking the water, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Nice day for planting,” said a now familiar deep voice, and Bucky turned to find Steve standing not too far away.

“Hey Steve! Yeah, the weather’s great.”

Bucky led Steve down the path towards the first area where they would be planting today. They walked side by side in companionable silence. Since the warm weather had started to set in, the park was seeing an uptick in early morning visitors, most being early morning joggers. As they walked, they passed quite a few people on their morning run. At first, Bucky didn’t pay them any attention, but about halfway to their destination, Bucky started to notice that people were giving him strange looks as they passed.

He didn’t have much time to think about it though, because shortly after, they arrived at the site. This patch of trees had begun to thin out, so the arborists’ department had decided to plant some new trees to help. Five saplings, their root crowns bundled in burlap, were bunched together inside a small wooded area roped off with yellow caution tape.

“Okay, here we are,” Bucky said, walking over to the small pile of tools.

Grabbing a shovel, Bucky moved to the first marked spot and began to dig. For the most part, Steve stood aside and observed as Bucky worked. First, Bucky dug an appropriately sized hole in the packed soil. Then, he unwrapped the roots of the designated sapling and carefully manoeuvred it into the hole. Then, he buried the roots with soil. The whole process was laborious and took a while.

“Whew,” Bucky said when the first tree was done. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Bucky fanned himself. “One done.”

As Bucky took a moment to catch his breath, Steve walked a slow circle around the newly planted tree.

“How’s it look?” Bucky asked.

“Good. You did a good job,” Steve said.

“Think it’ll take?” Bucky asked. Mr. Philips had explained that digging up and moving plants could be a rather traumatic experience, and sometimes plants didn’t survive the process, for one reason or another.

“I can make sure it does,” Steve said.

The small nymph crouched down until the hem of his short robe-toga thing brushed the ground, and the held him arm out, the palm facing the base of the small young tree. Steve’s hand began to glow a soft green, and the sapling seemed to shiver. The nymph worked his magic for about a minute before his hand stopped glowing and Steve straightened up.

“There, that should do it.”

“What did you do?” Bucky asked, his curiosity piqued. It seemed that Steve had done something to help, but he couldn’t detect any visible change.

“I encouraged its roots to grow and twine into the soil.”

Bucky, in Steve’s company, spent the rest of the morning and most of the early afternoon planting the other four trees. He took a small lunch break between the third and fourth trees, sitting on the ground talking with Steve in between bites of sandwich and sips of water. Once they were done, Bucky led the way back through the park.

The afternoon sun was warm, and the park was full of people. As they made their way to the nearest maintenance building to drop off the gardening supplies, Bucky noticed once more that people were giving him strange looks.

Bucky frowned. The staring was making him uncomfortable, and he couldn’t figure out why people were looking at him like that.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, breaking through the gardener’s thoughts.

“Yeah?” Bucky said, turning to Steve.

“Why are people staring at us?” A light breeze blew over the small meadow they were crossing, and the wind caused Steve’s cream coloured toga-robe to billow gently.

And that’s when it struck him. People were staring because of the way Steve was dressed!

“I think it’s cause of what you’re wearing.”

Steve looked down at his clothes. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked with a frown.

“Nothing! Just, it’s not what people usually wear. It makes you stand out.”

“Oh.”

“I have a spare change of clothes in my locker if you want.”

Steve paused to think for a moment. “Okay,” Steve said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

After stowing away the gardening supplies, Bucky quickly led Steve over to the main headquarters of the park staff, through the back entrance where the employee lockers were housed. The room was cool and lit by old, flickering lights.

“Here,” Bucky said, pulling one of his floral print sweaters and a pair of mesh athletic shorts out of his locker.

Steve took the garments from Bucky, looking at them in confusion.

“Those are pants; they go on your legs, up to your waist, and that’s a sweater,” Bucky said, pointing at each item.

Shrugging, Steve dumped the clothes on a nearby bench and began unfastening the gold clips at his shoulders.

“WHOA!” Bucky said, turning around to face the lockers, away from the dangerously inappropriate amount of pale, creamy skin being revealed.

“What?” Steve asked from behind Bucky. From the sounds of rustling fabric, the nymph hadn’t stopped stripping.

“You can’t just start taking your clothes off without warning,” Bucky said, feeling a blush blossom across his cheeks and creeping down his neck.

“You humans have such weird customs,” Steve said, and Bucky could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

Bucky tried to keep his mind away from thoughts of Steve naked as the nymph dressed. It had been a while since Bucky had seen anybody naked (other than himself, of course), and even longer since that nakedness had been in any sort of intimate environment. He just wasn’t ready for that yet, even if it was a casual roll in the hay, Bucky had told himself, and he’d believed it too, until this very moment. Here he was, within reach of possibly the most beautiful person Bucky had ever seen, who was currently naked, and it was making Bucky’s body react (much to his embarrassment).

“How’s this?”

Bucky shook his head to chase away his impure thoughts. “Huh?”

“How do the clothes look, jerk.”

Bucky turned around. Steve was standing barefoot on the cold tile floor hold his arms out and looking down at the outfit. Bucky’s floral print sweater looked about three sizes too large, and the shorts, which barely reached Bucky’s knees, hung loosely off Steve’s thin hips. “They don’t look like they fit very well,” he said, trying to stifle a laugh.

Steve merely shrugged. “Oh well. Good enough,” he said, pulling the drawstring on the shorts as tight as they would go. “Let’s see if the humans will stop staring,” Steve said, moving to the exit.

“Wait, where’d your old clothes go?” Bucky asked, looking around.

Steve shrugged. “I sent them away,” he said from beside the door. “C’mon.”

As it turned out, as strange as Steve looked in an oversized sweater, they managed to walk the width of the park without too many stray looks.

“Looks like it worked,” Steve said, plucking at his new clothes.

“You like them?” Bucky asked, smiling down at the nymph.

“They’re okay.”

“Only okay?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t really have need for clothes. They’re more for blending in, and these get the job done,” he said.

“Fair enough. Well, you can keep them, if you want.”

“Are you sure?” Steve said, look up at Bucky. The late afternoon sun lit his face until it almost seemed to glow, the sunbeams sparkling off Steve’s golden eyelashes and making his bright green eyes shimmer.

“Yeah, I have plenty of floral sweaters like that.”

“Okay.” Steve looked away. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said, bumping his arm against Steve’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

Steve bumped him back, look up at Bucky with a timid smile.

-8-

After that, Steve often joined Bucky in the park during his shifts. Most days, as soon as Bucky finished clocking in and changing into his gear, Steve would magically materialize beside him. Mostly, their time was spent in quiet companionship. Steve would people watch while Bucky worked.

The spring season was busy for gardeners, and Bucky was juggled from one task to the next as the season wore on. Bucky found that he liked Steve’s constant presence; having a friend around made the work pass by more quickly, and Bucky unexpectedly found himself enjoying his job even more when Steve was around. There were a couple of occasions where Steve couldn’t spend the day with Bucky, but as summer rounded the corner, Bucky found Steve joining him for almost every work shift.

Steve continued to wear Bucky’s floral print sweater, even as the temperature continued to rise. At first, Bucky was worried that Steve would suffer from a heat stroke if he wore to many layers in the stifling summer weather, but to his astonishment, Steve’s skin remained cool to the touch (not that they touched often, but for the occasional passing brush of skin, and if Bucky clung to those moments more than he thought he should, well, nobody had to know).

Eventually, Bucky couldn’t contain his curiosity, and on one particularly blazing hot mid-June day, he asked Steve about it.

“My body is a manifestation my powers,” Steve said, shrugging. “It isn’t generally affected by material things like temperature.”

Bucky wiped the dripping perspiration from his forehead. He’d been tasked with cutting the grass (much to Steve’s amusement) on one of the lawns on the north end of the park, and by the time he’d finished, his shirt was drenched in his own sweat. “So, does that mean you don’t eat or drink either? I mean I haven’t seen you eat anything before, but I mean, are you even able to eat human food?” he asked as they made their way back to the main maintenance building.

“I could if I wanted to,” Steve said, “but no, I don’t need to consume food to survive. I am sustained by the health of the forest. If the forest is healthy, then I am also healthy. But I won’t get sick or anything if I do eat human food.”

As soon as they stepped into the cool, airconditioned building, Bucky heaved a huge sigh of relief. “I guess that makes sense,” he said as he fiddled with the combination on his locker. Once open, Bucky grabbed his water bottle and took a big gulp. “Humans, on the other hand, need to eat to survive, and I’m starving.”

Steve chuckled. “Good thing it’s your lunch break.”

“Yeah, god knows I need it.”

Bucky had been advised to keep extra shirts in his locker, and when Bucky first started work back in November, he didn’t quite understand why it was a necessity. Now, however, Bucky found himself having to change into a fresh polo top halfway through his shift fairly frequently. Stripping off his damp shirt, Bucky tried to wipe off the excess sweat with the towel he kept in his locker before putting on the new shirt.

“Okay,” Bucky said, feeling less gross now that he’d changed. “Lunch time! Where should we eat?” Bucky asked as he grabbed his lunch bag.

“The fountain. We haven’t been there in a while.”

“Alright then, lead the way!”

As they sat in the shade, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder why Steve had chosen to spend so much time with him. Did Steve enjoy Bucky’s company as much as Bucky enjoyed Steve’s? He hoped so.

“What’s that?” Steve asked.

“What?” Bucky said, looking up from where he was putting away his lunch containers.

“That,” Steve said, pointing across the fountain courtyard.

“Oh, that’s an ice cream stand,” Bucky said, recognizing the metal cart and brightly coloured umbrella. “Have you had ice cream before?”

“What’s ice cream?” Steve asked, wriggling his nose.

Bucky laughed. “I guess that answers that. Wait here.”

Pushing himself up off the grass, Bucky crossed over to the ice cream stand and bought to ice cream cones.

“Here,” Bucky said, handing over the vanilla soft-serve.

Taking the cone from Bucky, Steve looked at the frozen dessert quizzically. “What do I do with this?”

“You eat it,” Bucky said with a laugh.

“Eat it?! How??”

“You lick it, like this,” Bucky said, taking a lick of his mint chocolate chip to demonstrate.

Steve looked extremely skeptical, but copied Bucky, sticking out his tongue and licking a bit off his own ice cream. “Ahhh!” Steve cried, pulling back with his face scrunched up. “It’s so cold! You didn’t say it would be cold!”

Bucky burst into laughter at Steve’s adorable expression and almost dropped his ice cream on the ground. “Well it’s called _ice_ cream for a reason!”

“You still could have said something,” Steve grumbled, giving Bucky the stink eye. “Jerk.”

“Do you like it?” Bucky asked when he managed to stop laughing.

“Couldn’t taste it the first time, I was too distracted by the cold.”

Approaching the dessert much more cautiously this time, Steve took another lick.

“It’s… nice,” Steve said.

Bucky could only grin in return as he continued to eat his own ice cream.

When they were halfway through, Steve looked over. “Why is yours green?”

“It’s a different flavour.”

“What is it?”

“Mint chocolate chip.”

“Oh. Can I try some?”

Bucky held out his cone. “Sure.”

Steve leaned over to have a taste. As he did so, his breath gently caressed Bucky’s skin, and in that moment, Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Steve’s pale rosy lips, parting just enough to allow Steve’s tongue to venture out. That one second seemed to stretch, and Bucky didn’t realize that he was holding his breath as he watched Steve’s tongue glide over the minty dessert until the moment was over.

“Hmm,” Steve said, “it’s also nice.”

“Y-Yeah,” Bucky said, trying to regain his composure before Steve noticed. “Ice cream is always nice on a hot day like this.”

“Hm. You’re right. We should get ice cream more.”

Bucky could only nod in response.

-8-

“Hey Steve?”

“Yes?” The nymph looked over to where Bucky was climbing down the ladder he had been using.

“Are you able to leave the park?” Bucky asked as he stashed the trimming shears into his maintenance cart. Taking out a garbage bag, he began to gather up the leaves and branches he’d just pruned away.

“Yes, I can, but I haven’t in a long time. Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “Just wondering. Tomorrow I’ve got a day off, and I thought maybe we could do something together?” he asked; Bucky hoped that Steve wouldn’t sense how his nerves were jittering.

“Oh. Sure, I guess.”

Bucky’s stomach fluttered. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. What did you have in mind.”

“Hm, I’m not sure. When was the last time you went around New York City?”

“Eh, I don’t know, I’ve never really looked around. I’ve never really been interested in human things.”

“Oh. Why’s that?”

Steve sighed. “I haven’t always guarded this small patch of trees. This forest once stretched over the entire peninsula, and all the way over the big island over there, on the east.”

“Long Island?”

“Is that what you humans call it now?”

“The one that’s just across the river?”

“Yeah.”

“Long Island.”

Steve nodded. “The whole thing, from the mouth of the harbour to the tip of Long Island, that used to be my territory. My brothers and sisters and I used to run through the woods and play in the rivers and streams,” he said, his gaze becoming glassy as he descended into his memories. “There were many of us then, our powers made strong by the endless forest.

“Of course, there were humans then too, but far fewer. They lived in villages that dotted the coast. They fished in nearby waters, hunted beneath the branches of our trees, and foraged among our greens. We lived beside them for a very long time, sharing the land and protecting it together.

“Then different humans came from across the ocean. These humans were only concerned with taking everything they could grasp. They cut down our trees to burn and build things, and killed so much of the wildlife. Slowly, the forest began to disappear, and with it, my family, until this small patch of trees and I were the only ones to remain.”

Bucky put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I… I’m sorry, Steve,” he said, feeling the weight of guilt.

The nymph shrugged. “I don’t much care for human things anymore,” he said quietly.

Bucky didn’t know what to say, so he simply drew Steve into a hug. For a moment, Steve didn’t move, but after a couple of seconds, Steve wrapped his slim arms around Bucky’s waist and pressed his face into the center of Bucky’s chest. Bucky tucked Steve into his embrace, laying his cheek on the top of Steve’s head. They stood like that for a couple of minutes, and Bucky savoured the smell of Steve’s hair, a pleasant scent akin to a mixture of freshly watered leaved and newly cut grass.

Steve’s face was still sad when he pulled away, and in that moment, Bucky would have done anything to chase it away.

“So, tomorrow?” Steve said, a spark of hope breaking through his expression.

“Yeah, if you still want to?” And then Bucky was struck with an idea. “Have you been to Prospect Park? It’s not as big as Central Park, but it’s still a decent size.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think so? I haven’t left this forest in many, many years.”

-8-

The next morning, Bucky met Steve at the 5th avenue subway station. The easiest way to Prospect Park was the Q line from the 57th street station, so Bucky led Steve towards one of the south exits. As they approached the edge of the park, Bucky could sense Steve’s apprehension.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he said gently.

“No,” Steve said, his eyes taking on a steely quality. “I want to do this.”

“Okay.” Bucky slung one arm around Steve’s slender shoulders, drawing him easily to his side.

Steve took a deep breath, and as he raised his foot to take his first step out of the park, he closed his eyes. It was so dramatic that Bucky was worried that something drastic would happen when Steve’s foot landed on the pavement – maybe Steve would burst into flames or crumble to dust, despite him saying that it was okay to leave the park. But no such thing happened when Steve’s bare foot touched the sidewalk, and both of them let out a sigh of relief.

As they walked among the skyscrapers, weaving through the crowd of people, Steve curled into Bucky side, and Bucky gave his shoulders a small reassuring squeeze in response. Steve looked overwhelmed by the new sights, sounds, and sheer number of people. Yet, the nymph refused to turn back, and Bucky admired his determination. He kept his arm around Steve’s shoulder the whole way, and he hoped that Steve would be comforted by the physical contact.

As they descended the stairs into the subway station, Steve seemed to shrink even more. both New Yorkers and tourists alike were flocking to and fro in a sea of human bodies. Holding Steve close, Bucky navigated over to the Q line. The platform thankfully had a bit more breathing room, and when the train arrived, they managed to find two empty seats. The two of them huddled, and Steve spent the whole ride pressed into Bucky’s side. Although Bucky couldn’t feel the nymph’s heartbeat (did Steve even have a heartbeat in the first place?), he was pretty sure that it would have been racing the entire way.

After a strenuous half hour trip, they finally emerged from the Prospect Park station, and the minute they stepped out of the station, the sunshine that illuminated Steve’s face seemed to melt away his anxiety. They could see the tops of the trees from where they were, and the walk from the station to the park took under a minute. As they turned the street corner and the park came into view, the whole treeline seemed to shiver, as though it had been stirred by some non-existant breeze.

“Oh,” Steve gasped, and took a step forward.

“Wait, Steve,” Bucky said, pulling him back from the edge of the curb. “We gotta wait for the light to change before crossing the street,” he said, pointing to crossing light.

As they waited for the light, Bucky could see the yearning on Steve’s face, and he could have sworn that the trees were leaning over, reaching their branches towards the nymph beside him. Finally, the light changed, and Steve raced across the crossing as Bucky tried to keep up.

The moment Steve crossed into the park, every tree and plant around him quivered, and a shower of bright green leaves fell about Steve’s shoulders. The small nymph laughed, spreading his arms wide and turning in a circle with his gaze pointed up towards the canopy above them. The sight only brought a smile to Bucky’s lips, and he was overjoyed to see Steve in such a good mood.

“Bucky!” Steve said, turning his wide gaze and even wider smile upon him. “This is wonderful!” He inhaled deeply, seemingly unable to get enough of the fresh air. “I didn’t know there was still such a large patch of forest left in the city outside the park!”

Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets, his smile widening. “Yeah, it’s nice, right?”

Steve moved over to one of the trees and placed his hand on the bark. Closing his eyes, Steve let out a contented sigh. “When the buildings and streets closed in on my forest, I lost connection with the rest of the trees. I thought… I thought they were all gone.” Opening his eyes, Steve turned to Bucky. “But they’re not! There’s such a large group here! I wonder… I might be able to re-establish a connection with this forest.”

“You think so?” Bucky asked, feeling the excitement rising within him too.

“I might? I want to try, but we have to go deeper in.”

Steve immediately plunged into the underbrush, and Bucky scrambled to follow. As they waded through the foliage, Bucky couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he met Steve, charging around Central Park in the rain. Just like that time, the branches and boughs seemed to bend out of the way, creating a path for Steve that disappeared behind them as they went. Bucky had visited Prospect Park fairly often, and knew the general layout of the area, but even still, he couldn’t tell where Steve was heading. Their route crossed a couple of the paths and walkways, and one or two small grassy lawns.

Finally, Steve came to a stop in the middle of a small clearing surrounded by trees.

“This should do,” he said.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head. “No, just stay there.” Turning to one of the trees, Steve caressed its thick trunk. “This forest hasn’t had a guardian for a very, very long time.” He smiled tenderly. “But no more, my children; I am here to care for you once again.”

Closing his eyes, Steve leaned forward, and his hand began to glow a soft green. The tree he was touching twitched, its leaves rustling as its branches began to sway. Then the trees next to it began to shiver, and the glow from Steve’s hand began to creep down his arm, to his elbow, then shoulder. The whole clearing was trembling by the time the glow had encompassed Steve’s whole body.

Leaning down, Steve touched his forehead to the bark, and let out a long exhale. As he did so, a breeze rippled out from where he was standing. The strong gust of wind caused Bucky’s hair to whip about his face, and he heard as the gale rushed through the leaves and branches of the forest, shaking all of the trees in the park.

“It is done,” Steve murmured.

“It worked?” Bucky asked, taking a step into the clearing.

“Yes. It did.”

Bucky beamed. “That’s great!”

Steve’s answering smile was almost blindingly bright, and his laugh was the most magical thing that had ever touched Bucky’s ears. Stepping forward, Steve crossed into Bucky’s space and his small body folded itself neatly into Bucky’s as he drew the man in for a tight hug. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, unable to resist resting his head on the short nymph’s hair. Except-

“Steve, are you… taller?”

“Hrm?” Steve said, his voice muffled by Bucky’s shirt and chest.

“Am I hallucinating, or are you taller?”

Steve pulled back and inch and tipped his face up to look at Bucky. “Hm. Probably. My domain is bigger, which means I’m more powerful now.”

It made sense, Bucky supposed. The more he learned about Steve, the more Bucky admired him.

They spent the rest of the day wandering around the park. Steve wanted to see the whole thing, and was trying to get familiar with the layout of the area. “It will take me a couple days to become familiar with these plants and their needs, but this is a good start,” Steve had said.

They stepped into the city for lunch at a small café on 9th street before plunging back into the park. When the sun began to set, Bucky found his legs were aching from walking all day. But he couldn’t say he minded, since he had gotten the chance to spend the whole day with Steve in an excellent mood.

“I should probably get going soon,” Bucky said reluctantly. He was working the next day, and the early start demanded and early bed time.

“Oh, okay,” Steve said.

“Shall we start heading back?”

“No, I want to look around some more. You go ahead.”

“But, I should probably get you back to the park,” Bucky said, “I don’t want you to get lost in the city.”

“I won’t need to go back through the city. I can feel my home from here, and now that this forest is under my protection too, I can travel between them with a single step.”

“Wait really? So, you can, like, teleport?”

“Teleport? What’s that?” Steve asked.

“It means disappear from one place and re-appear instantly in another place.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, I can teleport anywhere within the bounds of my domain.”

“That’s so cool.”

Steve smiled.

“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow? At work?”

Steve nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, bye Steve.”

But as Bucky turned to leave, he felt a small, cold hand grasp his own.

Bucky felt a blush creeping onto his face. “S-Steve?”

“Thank you,” Steve said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said with a smile and giving Steve’s hand a small squeeze.

Steve gently squeezed Bucky’s hand in response before letting go.

-8-

Over the rest of the summer, Bucky spent most of his days off taking Steve around New York. At first, their trips focused mainly on visiting the other parks around the city, allowing Steve to establish connections with them. As Steve added more land to his domain, his appearance changed in the smallest of increments. All in all, Steve gained just under two inches in height. In addition, Steve’s slender face, which had once looked sallow and thin, had filled in a bit, lending substance to the angles and sharp edges. His arms and legs, too, looked less like his bones would snap in two at the slightest impact.

As they spent more time away from Central Park, Bucky noticed that Steve seemed to be acclimatizing to being among the skyscrapers and humans, and after a month, their excursions became less about finding patches of greenery more about exploring the city together.

“Have you ever been to Coney Island?” Bucky asked one morning/

“What’s that?”

“It’s this small island south of Brooklyn with lots of human attractions. It’s got a huge beach and a big amusement park and stuff. Humans love it, especially in the summertime.”

Steve wriggled his nose – a sign Bucky had learned meant that he was trying to parse out the meaning of a foreign human concept. “Amusement park?”

“Yeah, it’s like… kind of like a festival, except it’s open every day during the summer; it’s got lots of street food and games and they have rides and stuff that are fun.”

“Huh.”

“Wanna go have a look? You might like it.”

Steve shrugged. “Why not. Do they have ice cream?”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, Steve, they have ice cream, and all sorts of other weird food too, like fried pickles, and funnel cake, and-”

“All human food sounds weird, but I want to try new tasty things.”

“Alright,” Bucky said, still smiling. “Let’s go!”

Even though it was a Thursday, it was a sunny and gorgeous day in late August, and Luna Park was filled with families on summer vacation. Steve still didn’t like crowds, but he they didn’t throw him into a panic anymore. Still, Bucky liked to keep an arm slung around Steve’s shoulders whenever they were in a throng of people. It was so that he didn’t lose Steve to the mass of people, and it had nothing to do with the way Steve seemed to fit into his side. At least, that’s what Bucky tried to tell himself (the argument was becoming less and less convincing).

As soon as Bucky paid their entrance fee, Steve’s attention turned to the food stalls.

“No, Steve, wait. We should eat after we go on the rides. If we eat first, you might get sick and throw up.”

Steve didn’t seem thrilled by the idea. “What’s so special about rides anyways?” he said as Bucky led them to the line up for one of the smaller roller coasters.

“Just try one try before you judge, okay, punk?”

The line wasn’t terribly long, and as they waited, Bucky tried to explain the concept of a rollercoaster to Steve as best he could. Soon Bucky was climbing into the seat beside Steve and putting the safety bar into place.

Bucky grinned. “Get ready!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

When the roller coaster lurched into motion, Steve’s hands shot forward to grip the handles in from of them, which drew a laugh from Bucky. “Hold on tight!”

Steve tensed as the coaster climbed up the first hill. Right when they reached the top, he looked at Bucky with wide eyes before they tipped over the edge and went barreling down the first slope. Steve screamed the entire way down, shrill and full of panic. They rounded the first bend, and Steve was panting hard, his golden hair blown back by the wind and his eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. Next came a series of small hills, which jostled them both up and down as they went. When they reached the second hill, Steve hyperventilated the entire time the car inched up the track, and he screamed again as they raced down. This time, however, Bucky could see that the terror was mixed with astonishment and maybe even a little bit of awe. By the time the roller coaster pulled into the unloading bay, Steve was laughing, a wide smile and an exuberant expression on his face.

“Did you like that?” Bucky asked.

“Yes! We should do some more!”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed deeply. “Alright then!”

They spent the next couple of hours running about the park from one ride to the next. Steve had a huge smile plastered on his face the whole time, and Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Whoa,” Steve said, wobbling and leaning over to catch himself on Bucky’s arm as they got off the flying swings ride.

“Okay, I think it’s time for a break,” Bucky laughed.

“But I wanna ride that one again!” Steve said, pointing to the giant pirate ship that was swinging back and forth.

“We can do that one again later,” Bucky said, nudging Steve towards the concession stands. “C’mon, it’s lunch time and I’m hungry.”

Steve’s eyes lit up at the mention of food. “Street treats!”

“Yes, Steve, you can stuff your face with carnival food now.”

“Great! Let’s go!” Steve said, taking off like a toddler on a sugar high.

Normally, Bucky would have been appalled at how over-pried the food was inside the amusement park, but Steve’s excitement was infectious, and Bucky found himself unable to deny any of Steve’s requests.

When they finally settled down at a picnic table with their food laden trays, Bucky wasn’t sure if they could finish it all. Bucky had gotten himself a hamburger, fries, and a soda. Steve, on the other hand, had gotten fried pickles, a candy apple, cotton candy, a bag of mini doughnuts covered in cinnamon sugar, funnel cake, a corndog, and a rainbow Icee.

“You’re gonna give yourself a stomach ache, Steve.”

“But I want to try everything!” Steve insisted as he picked up a fried pickle. “This looks good.” Taking a bite, Bucky could hear the crunch of the breaded exterior from across the table. “Mmm! So tasty!”

Bucky laughed and picked up his burger. “Just don’t eat too fast.”

Steve gave a running commentary on everything as they ate; it was such a contrast to the nymph’s normally quiet demeanor, but Bucky found that he enjoyed this new Chatty Steve just as much. Bucky was invited to try a bite of everything that Steve had ordered, and when they finished their meal, he was feeling really full.

Cleaning up their wrappers, Bucky piled all their waste onto a tray. “Alright, I don’t think I can go on any rides for a bit, I’m too stuffed,” he said as he dumped their trash in the nearest garbage can.

“But we haven’t gotten ice cream yet!”

“How can you still have room for ice cream?” Bucky groaned.

Steve shrugged. “Dunno, but I want to see what flavours they have.” Ever since Bucky had introduced Steve to ice cream, the nymph had been eager to try each new flavour that he came across.

“Why don’t we check out the games, and then we can get an ice cream later.”

“Games?” Steve said, wriggling his nose.

“Yeah, I’ll show you.”

The carnival games section was marginally less crowded than the rest of the park. Walking between the rows of stands, Bucky explained each game as they passed, sometimes stopping to watch as other people took their go at the games. As they were moving between booths, Bucky caught Steve staring at a little boy who was toting around a stuffed bear almost as big as he was.

“Do you want one?” Bucky asked.

Steve started at the question. “Huh? Oh, one of those? No.”

“You sure? I could win you one. I’m good at the shooting game,” Bucky said. It was probably one of the only things he was really and truly good at, even though he wished he wasn’t. “They should have one of those booths somewhere,” he mumbled.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, no, that’s okay. They’re too big. I wouldn’t have anywhere to put it!”

“Fair point,” Bucky said, and the way Steve was smiling at him worked at chasing away some of the clouds that had started to form in Bucky’s mind.

“Can we get ice cream now?”

“Fine,” Bucky said, resigned to his fate.

“Great! I think a saw they were selling some over there!”

There was a small ice cream bar at the end of the row of games booths, and they had two full displays of flavours. Steve spent fifteen minutes going up and down, trying to decide which flavour to get.

“What’s ‘Spumoni’?” he asked, reading the label on one of the tubs.

“It’s a mix of pistachio, chocolate, and vanilla.”

“Whoa. Okay, and that one? Raspberry Ripple?”

“Raspberry jam swirled into white chocolate ice cream.”

Steve continued to go back and forth. “Which one are you getting?”

“Hazelnut,” Bucky said, pointing to the corresponding bucket.

“That sounds good! I think I’m gonna go with this one,” Steve said, pointing to a pale violet flavour. “Lavender sounds interesting, and I’ve never seen it before.”

“Huh,” Bucky said, “Neither have I.”

They ordered, and when they had their ice cream cones in hand, Bucky spotted the Ferris wheel.

“Hey, we should ride the Ferris wheel while we eat our ice cream. There’s a great view of the city from the top.”

Steve looked in the direction Bucky was pointing. “Okay,” he said. As they walked, Steve took a lick of his ice cream. “Hm.”

“Good?” Bucky said around a bit of his own ice cream.

“It’s nice, but kind of weird.”

“How so?” Bucky asked as they got into the line up.

“Dunno. It tastes just like how lavender smells, but I prefer that as a smell and not a flavour.”

“Can I try?”

“Sure,” Steve said, holding up his cone.

Bucky took a lick. A light floral flavour permeated his tongue, and it tasted exactly as Steve said, just like how lavender flowers smelled. “Huh. Yeah, I get what you mean. It’s nice, but I probably wouldn’t get it again.”

Steve nodded. “It was fun to try though,” he said, taking another lick. “Can I try yours?”

Bucky held out his cone, and Steve took a lick.

“Oh, that’s really good! More?” he asked.

“Sure,” Bucky said, laughing.

It wasn’t long before they reached the front of the line, and then they were being ushered into a small gondola. The ride attendant latched the door shut, and the wheel began to turn.

“This is a slow ride,” Steve observed.

“Yep. We’re gonna take it easy and enjoy the view. I’m not ready for the rollercoasters yet; don’t wanna hurl on you,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Hey, can I have another bite of your ice cream?”

“You have your own!”

“I know, but I really like the hazelnut one, it’s really tasty.”

“It’s not my fault you chose the wrong flavour!”

Steve pouted. “Fine. Be mean.”

“Alright, punk, alright,” Bucky said, offering his cone. The scoop on top was almost completely gone, leaving a small lump on top and the ice cream inside the sugar cone left.

“Thank you!” Steve said, leaning forward to lick up another bite.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said, taking back his cone and biting into the crispy exterior. Leaning back, he continued to eat as they rose higher and higher.

“Wait,” Steve said as they approached the ride’s zenith. “I want another bite before you finish!”

Bucky looked down at the cone-end in his fingers. Looking back up at Steve, he popped the whole thing into his mouth and crunched down.

“Hey!” Steve cried.

“Too slow,” Bucky teased, mouth full.

“That was mean!” Steve said, and reached out and grabbed the front of Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky’s brain sputtered when Steve tugged him forward, and then it completely shorted out when Steve pressed their mouths together. In complete shock, Bucky inhaled sharply, and the moment his lips parted, Steve’s tongue darted between them. Bucky’s heart stuttered as he felt Steve lick into his mouth, gently caressing his tongue.

The kiss couldn’t have lasted more than a handful of seconds, but to Bucky, it felt as though the heavens and earth had moved. Eyes wide, Bucky’s heartrate and breathing had kicked into high gear.

“Mmm, the hazelnut one is really good. I’ll get that one next time we get ice cream,” Steve said, licking his lips.

Bucky was too busy hyperventilating to register anything else. _Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale_ -

“That’s what you get for not giving me one more bite.”

_Inhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhale_ -

“Bucky?” Steve said, his brows drawing together with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I… You- guh?” Bucky said, his voice cracking. “Did you just- kiss? Me?”

“Yeah, I- Did I not do it right? I’ve seen humans do it so much… I thought I got it right but maybe I didn’t? Are you okay?”

“Do-Do you know what it means? When humans kiss each other?”

“Yes?” Steve said, looking extremely worried now. “Humans kiss when they like each other, right?”

_Inhale, exhale_. “Well yes, but it’s means more than that.”

“I know,” Steve said.

“Y-You do? So you mean…?”

“Yeah, stupid, I like you,” Steve said softly.

Bucky leaned forward the inch that was separating them, pressing their foreheads together and letting his eyes flutter closed. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe it,” Bucky whispered.

“Bucky?” Steve said, his breath brushing against Bucky’s face. “Do you not like me back?”

“No! I mean yes! I mean, of course I like you, punk,” Bucky laughed, bringing up a hand to cup Steve’s face. “I like you so fucking much,” he whispered before bringing their lips together again.

“Good,” Steve said, smiling into the kiss.

-8-

When their gondola reached the bottom of the wheel, Bucky and Steve stumbled out of their seat, giggling. Steve threaded his fingers with Bucky’s and smiled as he tugged them towards the rollercoasters. Steve spent the entire afternoon dragging Bucky from one ride to the next, until Bucky thought he wouldn’t be able to remain standing from all of the vertigo.

Finally, Bucky put his foot down and insisted on stopping. They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering down the boardwalk, perusing the shops hand in hand. The sun was beginning to set as they reached the other end of the beach. Most of the sunbathers and beachgoers had left by then, and only a handful of families still lingered on the sand.

Walking down to the edge of the water, Bucky took off his shoes, allowing the surf to wash over his feet. The setting sun painted the sky in amber and yellow, the dying sunbeams reflecting off the surface of the dark water. They walked along the beach, the salty Atlantic water splashing at their heels, back towards Luna Park. Bucky couldn’t stop smiling; unable to help himself, he’d been reaching down to give Steve a quick kiss throughout the day.

It was dark when they reached the subway station, the streets lit by the last glow of twilight and the soft fluorescent street lamps. The ride back to Brooklyn was calm, taken in comfortable silence. They parted at Prospect Park, sharing one last kiss for the night. Steve’s lips were cool to the touch, and Bucky stroked his thumb across Steve’s cheek, his jaw gently cradled in Bucky’s hand, as they kissed. They parted with a smile and an agreement to meet the next morning for Bucky’s shift at work.

-8-

Summer slowly blended into autumn, and the leaves began to turn in colour as the daylight hours began to wane. In the park, the changing of the seasons brought with it a new set of chores. Flower beds were cleared and prepared for the winter frost, trees were trimmed, leaves needed to be raked, and equipment was maintained. Steve was at Bucky’s side through all of it, happy to provide (mostly) silent company, and occasionally indulged Bucky with a stray kiss or moment of levity.

As they passed through October and the first frost dusted the grounds, a thought occurred to Bucky.

“What happens to you in the winter?” Bucky asked as he raked up yet another pile of fallen leaves.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, looking up from where he was using his powers to blow stray leaves into Bucky’s pile.

“In the wintertime, what do you do? Is there a lot of stuff you have to do for the park?”

“Not really,” Steve said. “Spring and autumn are the busiest seasons for me. There’s usually not much for me to do in the winter and it’s just… so boring. I usually just hibernate.”

“Hibernate? Where? Is that safe?”

Steve shrugged. “I just sort of… let go of my material form I guess?”

“What do you mean?”

Steve frowned in concentration. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like… you know the whole teleporting thing? Where I disappear from one place and then re-appear somewhere else? It’s kind of like… the first half of that? I let my body dissolve, but then I don’t materialize anywhere else, I just sort of… exist without a corporeal form?”

“You can do that??”

“Yeah, I do it all the time. After the city was built, I actually spent most of my time like that. I only manifested a body when I needed a physical presence to do something; all the other times I just sort of… existed as a spirit, I guess? I only started spending so much time in my body when we met; I haven’t held a physical form for this long in centuries.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. So, when do you start your hibernation?” Bucky asked, trying to hide his disappointment. He’d grown so accustomed to Steve’s presence in his life that even just the thought of an extended period of time apart left him feeling oddly bereft.

“Usually after the first snowfall.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“But, I don’t _have_ to spend the winter hibernating. Like I said, I usually just did that because I was bored and had nothing to do.”

“Oh, you don’t have to?”

Steve shrugged. “Not really.”

“Well, if you don’t have much guardian duties during the winter, do you want to spend it with me? You could come live at my apartment, if you want?”

“Yeah?”

“Totally! Unless- is it possible for you to spend that much time away from the park?”

Steve rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure. I’ve never tried it before. Wouldn’t hurt to give it a go. You really want me to stay with you for the winter?”

“I… yeah, it would be great to have you at my place. I… it can be lonely, sometimes,” Bucky admitted.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s arm. “Yeah, me too.” The nymph gave him a small smile. “I’d love to come stay with you.” Reaching up on his tip-toes, Steve placed a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips.

Even though the first snowfall was still a while away, Bucky invited Steve to come see his apartment that evening. “We could have dinner,” Bucky said, “and I have ice cream in the freezer.”

So, at the end o his shift, after Bucky had changed out of his uniform and into his own floral print sweater (“Hey, we match!” Steve had said with a grin), instead of sharing a goodbye kiss, Steve followed Bucky onto the subway. Excited and nervous, Bucky talked the whole ride there, trying to explain all of the strange human things that Steve would find.

“It’s really small,” Bucky said as they rode the creaky old elevator up to his floor, “and it’s kind of a huge mess right now, and sometimes there’s a draft and the wifi isn’t great, and-”

“Bucky, relax. It’ll be fine.”

Bucky exhaled loudly. “I know, I’m just nervous.”

Steve giggled. “It’s cute,” he said, placing a kiss on the underside of Bucky’s jaw.

“Punk,” Bucky grumbled.

“Jerk,” Steve teased back with a grin.

Reaching their floor, Bucky led Steve down the hall. He fumbled with his keys in the dimly lit hallway for a moment before sliding the right one into the lock and opening the door. Flicking on the lights, Bucky stepped in with Steve right behind.

“Well, this is it.”

Steve stood by the door, taking a good look around as Bucky unlaced his boots and hung up his jacket.

“You have plants!” Steve said, spying the corner of the apartment where Bucky had set up a small gathering of potted houseplants.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, following after Steve as the nymph crossed the small space. It wasn’t much – the largest plant was an umbrella tree that Bucky tried to maintain at shoulder height, surrounded by a moderately sized aloe, a spider plant, and an English ivy.

“Oh,” Steve said, bending over to bury his face in the small cluster of leaves and taking in a deep breath. “They’re lovely.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. It’s not much, but the splash of green brightens up the place a bit.”

Steve seemed happy with investigating the apartment fauna, so Bucky took the opportunity to watch as Steve gently inspected the plants, cooing and murmuring encouragements to each one in turn. Having Steve in his apartment, wearing his clothes, and fawning over his foliage, felt both surreal and like the most natural thing in the world.

“They seem happy.”

“Huh?” Bucky shook his head, surfacing from his thoughts.

“You take good care of them,” Steve said, gesturing to the pots.

“Oh, uh, I try.”

“Are all human apartments like this?” Steve asked, looking around.

Bucky would have offered him a tour if there was more than one room to view, but as it was, he just ended up awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. “Uh, well, most of the small ones are like this. People with more money can afford places with more space.”

“Oh.” Steve looked around. “It’s cozy. And it smells like you. I like it.”

A blush crept up onto Bucky’s face. “That’s, uh, that’s good. Well, make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna start on dinner.”

Steve hopped up onto the tall bar stool by the counter, swinging his legs as he watched Bucky putter around the kitchen. Bucky began pulling ingredients out of cupboards and the fridge, and the two fell into a familiar, friendly silence. Steve refused the offer of dinner (“saving room for the ice cream,” he’d said with a grin), and they talked quietly as Bucky ate. The evening felt close and intimate, and Bucky felt like everything was right in the world.

After eating dessert in front of the television – an event that involved Steve wolfing down four bowls of cherry flavoured ice cream – Bucky took a quick shower and started getting ready for bed.

“So, what now?” Steve asked, sitting on arm of Bucky’s sofa.

“It’s bed time now. Gotta turn in early if I’m gonna get enough sleep before work tomorrow.”

“Oh that’s right! Sleep!”

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. “You say that like you’ve forgotten that humans need sleep.”

Steve shrugged. “That’s because I did forget.”

“You don’t need sleep? Don’t you need to rest?”

“I do, but I don’t rest with my body. I let go of my physical form, so I’ve never slept in my body before. I kind of want to try it; it sounds interesting.”

“Okay.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Uh,” Bucky said, scratching his face as he tried to think of a way to explain something as abstract as the concept of sleep. “Well, most people sleep in a bed, wearing pyjamas – although, I guess some people sleep naked too – and then you get comfy with your blankets and pillows, and you close your eyes, and… I guess you just wait until you fall asleep?”

“Hm. Okay. Let’s try it. Can I borrow some pyjamas?”

“Oh, sure, hold on.” Bucky rummaged through his dresser drawers until he found a pair of old mesh athletic shorts and a soft t-shirt. “Here,” he said, tossing over the garments.

Steve put the clothes beside him on the couch and began tugging off the floral print sweater.

“Whoa, Steve!”

“Huh?”

“We talked about this, remember? Warn a guy next time you start undressing, would you?” Bucky said, covering his face and turning away.

“Oh, that. Oops. I forgot. Sorry!”

Bucky sighed. “Just remember for next time, okay?”

“Okay.”

When Steve was done changing, he hopped down from the couch and dove onto the bed. “So I get underneath the blankets? Like this?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, kinda like that.”

“C’mon Bucky, you’re gonna be late for bedtime.”

“Alright, alright, jeez I’m coming,” Bucky said, flicking out the lights and plunging the room into the dark.

Crossing the small amount of floor space between the bathroom to the bed took only three steps, and with each step, as the reality of the situation at hand slowly sank in, Bucky’s heart began to pump faster and faster. Suddenly, he was worried that this moment would turn awkward, or if he would hog all the blankets during the night, or if Steve wouldn’t find it comfortable, or what if he had a nightmare and hurt Steve in his sleep?!?

“Hey,” Steve’s soft voice broke through Bucky’s sudden tempest of thoughts.

A small, cool hand gently grasped Bucky’s forearm, and he looked up. The vivid green hue of Steve’s eyes was lit by the glow of the streetlamps outside, and it was a familiar sight that settled his swirling mind. Letting out a soft sigh, Bucky leaned forward, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s soft lips.

“Get into bed, silly,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky slid under the sheets beside Steve.

“Good,” said Steve firmly. Immediately, the small nymph began rearranging himself, trying to get comfortable. After a couple of minutes of shifting and turning, Steve rolled onto his side and squirmed until his back was flush against Bucky’s chest, and then he grabbed one of Bucky’s arms and arranged it until it was wrapped around his waist and Bucky’s hand was over Steve’s sternum. “Perfect.”

Bucky couldn’t help but agree. It was perfect.


End file.
